The ecclesial legacy of Francis

I have a good friend, Father Jordi Fàbregas, who had recently corresponded with Pope Francis. And in one of the letters, written by himself in his own handwriting, with his small and careful handwriting, the Bishop of Rome lamented the still very closed nature of the Church: "It makes me angry when I hear that there are customs priests that they don't let people in." It is an observation that, said without theological fuss, has led me directly to that other beautiful image of Pope John XXIII, also more of a priest of - and of - the people than a theologian, who said that the Church should be "like a fountain in the town square; that everyone who wants can find fresh water."

Although it is not easy to summarize a thought as rich, radical and at the same time direct as that of Francis, if I had to highlight a fundamental idea it would be that of a Church open to everyone, welcoming without conditions. Socially committed and without borders. in field hospitals. And at the time of his death, I find it especially appropriate to point out this connection between John XXIII and Francis, because despite the social and ecclesial distances in which they lived, their easy-going and unpredictable character, their independent attitudes and their confrontation with the Vatican structure, make them close. conception of what the Church should be.

It's worth reminding the younger ones that John XXIII—also a Franciscan in spirit and chosen to think he wouldn't make much noise—called the great Second Vatican Council without, so to speak, entrusting himself to any saint. He announced it discreetly, to the surprise and indignation of the Vatican Curia, which was unable to stop him. And Francis is a priest made in and by that Council. That's why so many priests who also experienced the hope of the Council—and the post-conciliar disappointment—now felt so comforted. Francis reminds me of the same spirit, but now governing the Church with the intelligence and wit learned in his Jesuit training. Also with a sense of humor, as demonstrated by his brilliant response to the journalist who asked him how many people worked in the Vatican: "Half," he said.

At the time of Pope Francis's death, it is pertinent to ask what the strength of his legacy will be, beyond all that has been rightly highlighted these days. It is discussed, and can be read in his documents and homilies, his commitment to combating environmental abuses, his defense of the most vulnerable—particularly immigrants—his denunciation of war mongers, and his cry for peace. And also his denunciation of the dangers of globalization and digital culture, or even of the abusive interpretation of the right to private property. It is a way of thinking—it would not be appropriate to speak of doctrine—that demonstrates a remarkable capacity for lucidly and critically interpreting the shocks of our time, a capacity that can only be possessed by those who have lived through them.

The throne from which Francis has had to preach has not been the most conducive to making himself heard with all the intensity he deserved. The times of institutional discredit that he himself has courageously fought have not been his companion. However, or perhaps because of this, his conception of the Church has transcended its strictly institutional framework. We're talking about a club that doesn't issue membership cards, doesn't charge dues, doesn't keep attendance records, and where membership is free and doesn't necessarily have to be complete. To put it mildly: you don't have to take everything seriously.

And it is because of this very open conception that the institution remains in the background, while the person and the community take priority. In the encyclical Brothers and sisters (All Brothers), from 2020, Francis shows his special concern for the social bond: "If we fail to recover the shared passion for a community of belonging and solidarity, to which we dedicate time, effort, and goods, the global illusion that deceives us will collapse ruinously and leave many people at the mercy of the crude." A bond that, according to Francis, can only be born from respect for diversity, both within and outside the Church.

Some will say that all this is fine words but not deeds, that the institution hasn't changed that much. However, first of all, the changes in the ecclesial structure, to declericalize it, have been more profound than visible. And secondly, it must be emphasized that Francis' legacy is more social than doctrinal; more committed to the person than to the institution. In short, more evangelical than normative.